


the notes of paradise

by prismsakura



Category: An American in Paris - Gershwin/Lucas
Genre: Alcohol, Drinking, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Swearing, but also very mild, but it's just wine, oh look another aaip hochbaurel fic how original /s, ok but srsly this fandom needs more fics and i'll be damned if i don't contribute, one million commas and several dozen italics later, so pretty mild stuff, the wip for this was literally just titled hochbaurel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26599045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prismsakura/pseuds/prismsakura
Summary: After the nightclub events, Adam is greeted with a surprise visit from Henri. He learns a lot about his music, and himself, that night.
Relationships: Henri Baurel & Adam Hochberg, Henri Baurel/Adam Hochberg
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	the notes of paradise

Most of Paris was going to sleep as Adam Hochberg stood outside the darkened nightclub. The cold air nipped at him while he clutched crumpled sheet music and a cigarette. Because of course he was. Music and substance: these were the two things that grounded Adam, that gave him a distraction from the real world. The only two things he needed.

Well, those two, and perhaps, one more.

Adam stared at the score he held before him. _Stairway to Paradise,_ it read at the top of the paper, in neat handwriting that just screamed “rich and educated” _._ It had been Henri’s suggestion of course, because if Adam had full control, he would have never given any of his songs such a sappy name. 

Yet, Henri had gotten his way, because it was _his_ song after all, and Adam was weak. In the end he handed it to Henri’s eager hands, and Henri, being the evil, evil man he was, snatched it ecstatically and quickly wrote down the title that now occupied the line above the score. The title that made it so obviously clear that it was Henri Baurel’s.

Heck, even the lyrics indicated that. Words so full of _hope_ , and _cheer_ , and _sparkle,_ if that even was a thing you could find in words. They just brimmed with it. 

_It’s madness,_ the lyrics of Henri read, _To be always sitting around in sadness. When you could be learning the steps of gladness!_

It seemed like those lines were specifically aimed at Adam. Henri was always going on and on about how art was supposed to bring happiness and light to the world, instead of reminders of darkness and depression. And, just about ten minutes ago, Adam had realized that he was right. 

Henri always knew best, always _improved_ upon Adam’s compositions. And, if Adam were to be truthful, he didn’t mind it all that much, even if he acted like he did.

Well, now wasn’t exactly the time to dwell on all that. Adam had a ballet to write. Though it was nearing dawn, he would be damned if he wasn’t going to start now.

Adam exhaled, releasing a puff of white fog into the frosty air, and dropped the cigarette, crushing it underfoot.

In the back of his mind, the drone of an oboe echoed.

* * *

The door to the cafe creaked open as Adam entered, squinting in order to see better. Though there was plenty of moonlight streaming through the windows, he would prefer to play it safe and not bump into another chair. The first fall had already been enough hell for his leg. 

Craving a bottle of wine, Adam wearily approached the light switch situated behind the bar, and turned it on. He immediately regretted it as the harsh brightness of the lights flooded the restaurant, making him wince.

Whatever, there was the red wine, sitting under the bar and waiting to be opened. Adam grabbed it and turned the light switch off. 

“What is that in your hand?” 

Adam yelped and jumped a foot, nearly dropping the bottle. He turned to see who decided to barge in late at night to disturb his peace. And upon seeing who it was, he instantly hoped that whatever god up there would mercifully smite him down. 

There was Henri standing in the doorframe, his jacket already off and draped across his arm, staring questionably at Adam.

(Adam _really_ despised how the moonlight acted as a backlight, framing Henri’s body and making it seem as if he were glowing. Adam especially hated how his heart skipped a bit when he saw him like that.) 

Immediately Adam turned the lights back on (the glow went away, thank god) and shrugged away the shock, equipping the casualty and sarcasm he always had. “What does it look like?” he said, waving the wine around.

Henri furrowed his eyebrows. “I do not think you should be drinking so much this late.”

“What’s it to ya?” Adam scoffed, pulling the bottle closer to himself. 

Henri closed the door behind him and walked towards Adam, looking far more confident than Adam would’ve liked. 

“Are you going to work?” Henri asked. 

“When am I not working?” 

“You cannot just keep on…” Henri’s forehead creased a little as he looked for a different word, but ended up waving a hand in defeat. “...working.” 

There was a beat as he gave Adam a stern look. “You will dog wheel yourself out.” 

Adam blinked at him.

“What the hell are you–oh.” Adam felt an amused smirk tug at the end of his lips as his slow brain figured it out. “I’ll be _dog tired_ ,” he corrected. “That’s the term you’re looking for.” 

“Yes, well–”

“And I don’t get tired,” Adam cut off, and headed out of the bar, his mind set on working on the ballet. “I know my limits very well, thank you very much. I happen to have a lot of stamina.”

He headed to the stairwell at the other end of the room, pausing to lock the door on the way, but was stopped by an almost-too-quiet, “Wait.” 

Adam turned back to Henri, an eyebrow raised. 

Henri opened his mouth, closed it, and then said, “You forgot to turn off the lights.” 

“Oh?” Adam intoned. “Well close it on your way out.” 

“Actually,” Henri called out again, “I wanted to _funk_ with you.” 

“...funk?” 

“Just for the night.” 

Henri sounded hesitant, Adam noted as he tried to piece together what exactly Henri was trying to say. 

“...you mean _bunk,_ ” Adam said, realizing that must be why Henri came over in the first place. He wondered why he didn’t question it sooner, but deduced that he was just used to Henri visiting. “You want to bunk with me? What for?” 

“Let me just say that, I do not exactly want to stay at the mansion right now.”

“I thought you were cool with your folks?”

“Well, yes, I am. We are. But... I couldn’t sleep.” 

“What about Lise? She seemed like she wanted company too.”

“Lise did not, actually,” Henri explained. “She wanted to sleep early. So, if you do not mind, I would like to accompany you for a while.” His eyebrows raised in query. “Unless of course you are too busy working. But, I do not think that has stopped me and Jerry before.” 

“It’s ‘Jerry and I.’”

“Must you prick at every error I make?” 

“‘Pick.’”

“And there is your ego, again.” 

“My ego is a particle next to yours.”

And there were the jabs that they so delighted in giving each other. That was what made them work, Adam thought–the ease of the back-and-forth banter they participated in, the comfort they took in the fact that they could snark, and taunt, and jab, and still not deal damage. But even if they did, time always healed them, more specifically around the span of five to ten minutes. 

Henri rarely had the pleasure of insulting someone, and Adam never had a constant someone to insult.

Adam heard some trumpets blare enthusiastically. 

Henri was still staring at Adam with his imploring puppy eyes. He always equipped them whenever he asked for favors. Paired with Henri’s sunny disposition, Adam could honestly never understand how anyone could resist him, annoyingly enough. He suspects that even if Henri didn’t have any servants, he could still get people to do his bidding just because of that.

“Are you _sure,_ though?” Adam attempted to rebuff one more time. “My room isn’t exactly the most comfortable place. You might bruise yourself just by sitting on the bed.” 

“I am sure,” Henri replied, tilting his chin up. 

“You don’t have any other, uh, buddies? Any _amis_ or _copaine_ you can stay with?” Adam drawled his French mockingly.

Something shifted in Henri’s face ever so slightly. He drew his hands up closer to his chest and touched one of his cufflinks. 

“You can just use _amis,_ you know,” he said.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“I don’t exactly know many people, what with my responsibilities. So, no, I do not have other _buddies_ to stay with.” 

Adam scanned Henri. One on hand, it shouldn’t surprise him that Henri didn’t have many friends apart from him and maybe Jerry (who, Adam remembers, Henri had punched earlier). He worked for his family after all, and the Baurels probably just talked to colleagues or other rich people. The kind of people Henri didn’t care much for. 

On the other hand, Henri was, well, Henri. You couldn’t help but be drawn to him. He emitted so much love and energy you would wonder how he even kept all of that within him. Lots of people _should_ be quite close to him, right?

(At least, Adam assumed that was the case. It can’t just be him who felt that way.)

Another moment swiftly passed before Adam sighed, finally defeated, and started up the stairs. “Okay, yeah sure, be my guest. Just don’t scrunch your cute little face when you see the _poorness_ of my petit alcove _._ And turn off the lights.”

“I am not _cute,_ ” Henri protested. Adam heard the light switch click. “I do not see how I am such.” 

“That’s because you can’t see yourself,” Adam replied. “But then again, I suppose you must spend so much time gazing into the mirror of your expensive vanity.”

“How do you even know I have a vanity?” Henri’s voice became more clear as he approached the stairs.

“All rich people have them.” 

Henri scoffed, but otherwise stayed silent, and Adam knew he had won for the time being.

(For the most part, Adam thought absentmindedly, Henri wasn’t cute. Maybe just infuriatingly pretty.)

“Why are you going up? There is a piano right here,” Henri asked from the bottom of the stairs.

“I don’t like composing down there. I only use it when the cafe’s open.”

“But why not?” 

“Too spacious. Too hard to concentrate when people can just stare at me through the windows.”

“Well then, I do not think you’d like me staring at you while you work, no?” 

For some reason, that sentence sent a shiver down Adam’s spine. He coughed to try and shake it off. “Well you’re not really _other people,_ ” he eventually said, and rubbed his back. 

Adam heard creaking from below him. 

“Do you really climb so many stairs?” Henri inquired.

“I mean, yeah. I kind of have no choice.” 

“But does it not hurt?” 

“Hey, buddy, if you have a problem with a two-story building having stairs, I think you better take it up with the architect.” 

“It just doesn’t seem good for the leg,” Henri said. “And there are plenty of apartments that are on the ground floor. It is not very uncommon.” 

“Well it’s not like I have time to go shopping for a new place. Besides.” Adam tapped his limp leg. “It’s not like this’ll be getting better anytime soon.” 

Henri simply hummed in acknowledgement, and they continued their ascent until they reached a door on the second floor. 

Adam pushed it open, and gestured half-heartedly. “Welcome to my extremely humble abode.” 

It really wasn’t much. A large piano filled maybe a fourth of the already small, cramped space. Light emitted from a window located in the sloping roof, as well as a dim light bulb that Adam probably needed to replace soon. The bed had a thin, white mattress, pillow, and blanket. A desk that was filled with heaps of papers and writing material sat at its end. A closet was installed in the wall on the far left side of the room. 

And every single thing about the room seemed _old._ Old, and cheap. The place seemed to embody the sound of a sad, out-of-tune violin played by a beginner. 

It suddenly hit Adam that Henri had never even seen his room before. 

He looked at Henri, with his designer clothing, well-kept hair that never seemed to lose its shape no matter what, and the smell of jasmine and sandalwood following him everywhere. Adam looked back at the rotting wood, the yellowed keys on the piano, the struggling lightbulb, and the cabinet doors that wouldn’t close. And Adam thought, no, Henri definitely _didn’t_ belong in this grubby hole of an apartment. Or, rather, he _shouldn’t._

Yet Henri was here, stepping into the bedroom and looking around curiously, as if he were studying a historical relic. 

There was a pause as Henri surveyed the area, and Adam waited for a response, a tease of sorts. But nothing came. 

Adam cleared his throat, a little put off. “It’s alright, you can say it.” 

Henri flinched. “What?”

“I know what you’re thinking,” Adam accused as he shut the door behind him. “It’s dark, it’s dingy, it’s depressing. Very different from your prestigious mansion. There’s probably rats in the wall. You’re regretting ever coming up here. Go on, say it.” 

There was a beat before Henri started to chuckle, causing Adam to furrow his brow, annoyed. Though, he was less annoyed at Henri and more peeved at the way his laugh seemed to brighten up the room for some goddamn reason. Geez, even the lightbulb stopped flickering. 

“You are right, it is quite _dingy,_ ” Henri admitted. “But it has a sort of…charm to it.” 

“What charm?” Adam walked over to the piano chair and took a seat. “Even I’m not blind to the rats in the wall.” 

Henri shrugged, a small smile still on his face, and approached the piano, running his hand across the wood. “It is sort of like you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Adam asked, narrowing his eyes. 

“It is honest.” Henri smirked down at Adam. “And small.”

Adam glared at him. 

“Little shit,” he muttered. 

“And it does not even feel like keeping up its appearances.” Henri frowned at the dust that his fingers had picked up from the piano. “Though maybe it should sometimes.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with a little dust,” Adam defended instinctively. 

“Maybe not. But there is something wrong about a little rats.” 

“A _couple_ of rats. And I can’t really do anything about those guys. They’re pretty much the landlords.” 

Henri paused and looked at Adam, confused. “How are the rats–?” 

“It’s a joke.” Adam waved a hand at Henri. “Continue your monologue, please, I wouldn’t want to throw you off your rhythm.” 

“Oh, I see.” Henri turned his attention back to the room. “Well, there’s not much left to say.”

Adam hummed, unsurprised.

“I guess it is, overall… different, yet, comforting and familiar.” 

That caught Adam’s attention. He tilted his head up at Henri, mildly confused. “Seems kinda presumptuous of you, considering you’ve never been here before.” 

“Well, yes,” Henri said. “But as I said, it is a lot like you. It just has your… essence.” 

Adam stared a little longer, processing Henri’s words bit by bit. Soon he just sighed and rubbed the nape of his neck.

 _Comforting and familiar._ Adam snorted, but resisted the urge to smile. 

“You’re too… _nice_ to me sometimes, you know?” Adam huffed, opening the bottle of wine at last. 

“I disagree _._ ” 

“Of course you do.” 

As he pondered Henri’s words some more, Adam heard strings pluck, accompanying the tinkling of a celeste. The oboe and the trumpet from before joined in the music, laying down a note like a blanket for the melody to lay on. Adam smiled to himself. The ballet was coming together. 

Adam took a swig of wine and handed it to Henri, who was taking a seat on the bed. “Care for a sip?” 

Henri’s face scrunched up again as he stared at the bottle. “I do not want to drink from that, you already did.” 

“Relax, it’s not like I have the plague. Take a sip.” 

“StiII…”

“Try humoring me for once, huh?” Adam cocked his head, imploring. 

Henri opened his mouth as if to argue some more, but sighed instead. He took the bottle and drank from it. Honestly, he drank more than Adam expected. 

When Henri finished, he quirked up an eyebrow at Adam.

“Is that humorous enough for you?” Henri asked.

Adam hummed as he took the wine back, recapping the bottle and setting it on the piano. “That’s not exactly the word I would use.” He then reached out and made grabby hands at the pile sitting on the desk. “My supplies, please?” He begged in an overly sweet tone. 

Henri pouted, but obliged, and sifted through the mess to find some blank papers and a pencil. He handed them to Adam.

“Thank you,” Adam mouthed.

“You should throw out some of these, you know,” Henri berated, trying to make the remaining papers more organized. “Most of them have been used.”

“Shhhhh, I’m trying to concentrate on my ballet, don’t bother me…” 

Soon he was playing, filling the room with music as Adam always did, experimenting with the sound and taking notes now and again. 

There was still something missing, though. Adam felt the passion was there, but not so much the _glee._ The elements that really made the piece a celebration didn’t make themselves known, as if hiding just out of Adam’s reach. It was to be expected, as Adam was fully stepping out of his comfort zone and looking for what he had ignored for the past few years of his songwriting career. Adam was aware that acknowledging something existed did not mean you were familiar with it. Still, it was irritating.

All the while Adam was conscious of Henri on his bed, not saying a word. 

While figuring out some notes, Adam broke his gaze away from the crescendos and question marks on the paper in front of him to take a quick glance at Henri, who was simply watching Adam, a gentle but almost unreadable expression on his face. His back was now resting against the wall, a pillow placed behind him presumably to make the solid concrete more comfortable. His legs were stretched out and Henri’s hands were clasped and resting on his lap. His shoes were on the floor, so the colorful diamond patterned socks on his feet were visible. 

Henri looked… relaxed.

Adam suddenly became apparent of the fact that he almost never saw Henri this way. Not in the way that he wasn’t always moving, that his shoulders didn’t seem tense, that a smile wasn’t plastered on his face. But right now, Henri was just sitting on the bed, his shoulders slumped, legs stretched across like a simple commoner.

“I told you I would be staring.” 

Adam realized he had been gazing at Henri for a while. 

“And I told you I wouldn’t mind,” he retorted. Adam turned back to his piano and played a few notes of Debussy to try and get back into his groove. Then he went back to building a melody, playing what he had so far. 

Until he heard Henri murmuring something.

“ _One, two, three, four,_ ” mumbled Henri. “ _One, two, three…_ ”

“What are you doing?” Adam snapped. “I’m trying to concentrate here.” 

Henri, eyebrows furrowed, didn’t respond for a moment, only looking at the sheet music. 

“Yoo-hoo, sunshine?” Adam waved a hand impatiently to catch Henri’s attention. “Down to earth please, cuz I’m in the dark about what you’re babbling about over there.” 

“Is that in four-fourths?” 

Adam faltered. “Is what in four-fourths?” 

Henri raised an eyebrow at Adam, unimpressed. “It’s not like I am talking about the curtains, am I?”

“I have no curtains.”

“That is the point. I mean your music. ” 

“Oh. Yeah, yeah it is. At least, this part is.” 

Henri’s cold expression dropped. Seemingly confused, his brow knitted slightly, but a hint of a disbelieving smile made itself known. 

“It’s happy.” 

“Oh. Uh, yeah.” Adam’s hand motioned towards the paper, as if to say, _Yeah, this is cool_. “I mean… I’ve been thinking about all that stuff you were saying about it and…” 

“You took my advice?” 

Adam nodded, staring down at the keys. 

Suddenly he heard the bed creaking, and another leg was pressing into his. Adam looked up to see Henri scooching next to him on the bench. 

“What are you doing?” Adam asked, though he moved to give Henri more space. 

Henri picked up the sheet music and sifted through the pages.

“What made you want to make it happy?” he asked. “It is very unlike you to make that kind of decision without me.” 

“Well, you were still kinda involved in a way,” Adam said, a little strained. “I dunno, just… after you left the club, we were all kinda sulking for a while.”

Henri’s face fell a little at that. 

“And… it just came to me. I’m paraphrasing here but it’s as you said. The world is so dark and full of shit that sometimes, adding a little light could be… okay. And maybe the ballet would be the best way for me to do that.” 

A small, tender smile appeared on Henri’s face as he looked at Adam. “Well, well, I can say that that is the most poetic you have been.”

“More like the most _French,”_ Adam snorted. 

“Must have been painful, for you.”

“I’m poetic all the time. Besides, who writes your lyrics for you?” 

“ _I_ write. You edit.” 

“I _correct._ ”

“Just because you are correct does not make you poetic.” 

“It doesn’t make me a _poet_.” 

“You are insufferable.”

“Gee, I wonder why. Now if you excuse me, I’d like my sheet music back.”

Henri obliged, handing the papers to Adam. As he rearranged them, Henri played a few notes on the piano.

C, C5, A G, A, G, Bb A G… 

_I’ll build a stairway to paradise…_

Adam promptly continued the melody, as if by instinct. E, D, E, G, A, Bb… 

_With a new step every day…_

It was a simple tune, but one that lifted you up and carried a feeling of buoyancy. And though the tone wasn’t in line with Adam’s other compositions, he was rather proud of it. Proud of the melody, and proud of how Henri seemed to sync with it so well. 

Adam remembers how Henri had performed it at the nightclub, so shaky and nervous at first like a newborn calf. But once Adam reminded him of Radio City, it seemed something turned on in Henri, like a light switch. Soon he was singing and twirling proudly, encompassing the song’s energy so effortlessly and releasing it to the whole room. 

Adam hadn’t really seen Henri like that before, so carefree and… himself. And maybe Adam was being too much of an optimist, but he likes to think he had a hand in making that happen, what with his encouragement and his music.

Well, it was their song, after all. 

“You did good earlier,” Adam blurted out. 

Henri paused as he was about to continue the song. “At the nightclub?” he asked, his voice noticeably softer. When he got a nod in return, he pressed, “Really?” 

“Mhm.” Adam scratched his neck again. He wasn’t used to giving compliments, much less to Henri, as strange as it may seem. “Even when you absolutely, heh, bombed the beginning or when your parents showed up, you stood your ground and… finished solid.” 

A quiet, pleased laugh escaped Henri. “Well, my dreams of Radio City seem to prove hard.”

Adam almost choked, his mind having strayed to some undesirable places. “ _Strong,_ you mean?” he spluttered.

“Yes, yes, strong,” Henri said dismissively. 

Adam nodded weakly and straightened his sheet music. 

There was a long, rather awkward silence.

“You helped me earlier, you know,” Henri remarked finally. 

“I’m the accompanist, it’s kind of my job.”

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“Then please, do share. Don’t mind me trying to concentrate on finishing the ballet.” 

Despite the last statement, Adam didn’t try to turn his attention back to the music. Instead, he waited as Henri inhaled, then exhaled, as if preparing to recite a monologue. 

Actually, he probably was.

“When you told me to, _‘Think of Radio City…’”_ Henri began, “Well, I did. I have only seen it in pictures, you know, but I could still imagine it so clearly. Those beautiful light arches and the stage.” Henri’s eyes lit up as he smiled widely, forming faint crow’s feet. “I imagined I was in a magnificent suit, and there were beautiful dancers all around me.”

“Ah yes, the twenty beautiful female backups,” Adam mumbled, his hand drifting under his chin. His elbow pressed into the keys of the piano, creating a discordant chord, but he barely noticed. 

Henri wavered at that. “There weren’t just women,” he said slowly, touching his sleeves again. “There were also men, in fancy suits as well.” 

Adam couldn’t help but raise a brow at that. 

“And also…” Henri continued, “There was you.” 

A drum beat. 

“Is that so?” Adam asked, a bit quiet. 

Henri nodded, and Adam uttered a sound of mild incredulity. 

“Aren’t I supposed to be the piano player though?” he pointed out. “Why exactly would I be onstage with you?” 

Henri’s face dropped, and all of a sudden, Adam felt remorse. 

“I am not sure,” Henri replied softly. “But… we were… rather _wonderful,_ together. We performed a big dance and did amazing; it was so _fun._ ” 

Adam tried imagining performing with Henri, in tuxedos and doing duets and grinning at each other, and his heart stuttered. What the hell. If Henri kept this up, Adam might just suffer an attack. 

“Were we, now?” Adam muttered. 

Henri looked at him, and their eyes met. 

“I do not think… I would have been so confident, if that vision of _us, together,_ at Radio City, did not appear to me. Or if you hadn’t supported me.” Henri paused. Adam noticed he had stopped fidgeting with his sleeves. “I… I do not think I would ever perform in Radio City without you, now. The performances wouldn’t be as grand.” 

_Oh_.

Adam opened and closed his mouth a few times, struggling to find the words to reply. 

“That’ll be challenging with my leg,” he finally retorted, weakly. 

“I would not force you to perform with me of course.” Henri smiled shyly. Adam swore he turned the slightest bit red. “Even if you were just _there,_ accompanying me in America, that would be enough for me. Though I do still think you could tap, limp or no.” 

Adam took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, licking his dry lips. 

“I reiterate my point,” Adam said, averting his eyes, because the intensity of Henri’s deep brown ones was driving him crazy. “You think way too highly of me.”

“And I reiterate mine,” Henri responded. “I do not agree.”

Adam took in the sight of Henri. Henri, who seemed to stand out amongst the chaos and darkness of the world, who brought light into it instead, who was now sitting with Adam Hochberg of all people. Who said that _Adam Hochberg,_ of _all people,_ gave him the moxie to perform at the nightclub tonight. Who said that he wouldn’t want to go perform in _Radio City Music Hall_ if _Adam Hochberg_ weren’t there with him. 

Knowing Henri was like having someone stubbornly hammer away at your walls until he could finally reach out for your hand and drag you out into the world. He showed you all that he found beautiful about it, and though you yourself had trouble seeing it, you still loved to entertain these thoughts. You couldn’t help it. Henri said them with so much hope and passion that sooner or later, you’d find yourself believing them too. 

Then he would ask you to write songs about the world he has shown you, to make it smile, and you’d obliged. 

Really, though, you didn’t do it for the world. You did it for him. Your songs became more alive, more passionate than any bitter dirge could be, all because of Henri. 

Adam knew that Henri still hid some pieces of him away. They’d talked enough for him to be sure of that. But maybe they shouldn’t be. Because if Henri was this _wonderful,_ then those parts of him couldn’t be all that bad. They were probably just as lovely. Call him a sap (which he _hated_ being called), but Adam knew, deep down, that it was true. 

That was why he knew, he loved Henri Baurel. 

( _There. I said it. Are you happy now?_ He thought to the universe.) 

(The universe seemed to simply smirk at him and say, _Almost._ )

(It was impossible to please that bitch.)

“You can never stop being such a sappy bitch, can you?” Adam teased, feeling heat in his cheeks.

“And you, _Monsieur,_ ” Henri bit back, smirking and trying to regain his balance, “can never be sappy for even one minute.” 

Adam took one look at the cocky expression on Henri’s face. 

Challenge accepted. 

Tentatively, Adam reached out a hand, and cupped Henri’s face. He felt how warm it felt, and how Henri’s breath seemed to brush his wrist before it suddenly hitched. Adam sensed himself holding his breath as well. He was aware of their legs pressing into each other, how their faces were mere inches apart, how easy it would be to close that gap.

Anticipation and tension seemed to settle on his shoulders like the dark, heavy drone of a contrabassoon.

“Well then.” With a surge of adrenaline, Adam leaned forward until their noses were barely touching, and the warmth of their breaths mingled between them. Henri’s eyes widened, and Adam couldn’t help but smirk. Feeling as if he’d just ran a mile, he asked, “Would you like me to start?” 

Henri didn’t answer, causing Adam to falter. Second-guessing himself, he started to inch away just a little, his brain already composing a witty excuse so they could forget about it and move on as quickly as possible.

But soon, Henri’s hands drifted to Adam's sides. Their bodies moved even closer together, and Adam knew that this was _it,_ he was finally going to die and the earth would reclaim him. 

“Please,” said Henri. 

That was Adam’s cue. 

Hearing the start of the triumphant climax of his symphony, Adam Hochberg quickly and swiftly kissed Henri Baurel.

The swells of the horns and the woodwinds in his mind enveloped them both, sonorous and proud, feeling as if Paris itself was celebrating.

And _shit,_ Adam might as well be in Paradise. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you liked this please consider leaving a kudos and/or comment, because lord knows if there's anyone still left in this fandom. I swear sometimes I think I'm the only member right now though I see hints of others. 
> 
> Also I tried to make sure this lived up to the other fics in this fandom because seriously those are GORGEOUS, but I'm not sure if I succeeded haha. If you've written for this fandom just know that I respect you so goddamn much and probably read and loved your fic. 
> 
> Also can you believe I researched the instrumentation and composition of the actual american in paris piece (and stairway to paradise) just to write those music sections? Because I kinda can't. 
> 
> I'm thinking of making a part two from Henri's POV, plus the aftermath of the kiss, so if you're interested in that let me know!
> 
> Thanks again for reading this, I hope yall enjoyed it :3


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